


frostbite and burns

by Magali_Dragon



Series: fire and ice and everything nice [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Burlesque, Drabble Collection, Escort Service, Escort!Jon, F/M, Madam!Dany, adorable Jon Snow daughter present too, manwhore!robb, series of silly and angsty and smutty drabbles from the 'ice is hot too' universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-05
Updated: 2020-09-27
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:55:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26309665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Magali_Dragon/pseuds/Magali_Dragon
Summary: A series of drabbles set in the universe set forth inice is hot too.Check out chapter 1 for original digital artwork fromDragon_and_Direwolf!
Relationships: Jon Snow/Daenerys Targaryen
Series: fire and ice and everything nice [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1911625
Comments: 70
Kudos: 392





	1. just dance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dany is ending her long day when Jon decides to liven up her evening with a bit of a show.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first chapter is courtesy of my brain twin, my #1 bitch, my supplier of Asshole!Jonerys NorthernLights37 thought she could challenge me to the prompt "I trust you" and since Aenar got the sweet side of that prompt, she gets the spice. Because CHALLENGE ACCEPTED.
> 
> I welcome you back to Madam Daenerys and her Chief Operating Officer, lover, and former escort Jon Snow in the universe **ice is hot too**.
> 
> Oh and ah-hem, this falls on the very 'hard M' side of things if not downright explicit. You're warned.
> 
> (originally published 19 August 2020)
> 
> And thank you to Dragon_and_Direwolf for the HILARIOUS and amazing artwork accompanying this drabble!

So much of Dany’s life consisted of dealing with terrible things that happened to good people. She was doing her very best to limit those terrible things through her other endeavors, namely her Red Door Initiative. Thank the gods for Jon in helping her with that one. Thank the gods for Jon, honestly, she thought, standing in her office, holding her whiskey in her fingertips, the cool crystal glass pressed to her forehead, staving off the headache she felt forming behind her eyes.

The terrible things were offset by some rather mundane, irritating aspects of running her empire. There was the burlesque club, but Missandei had all but taken over the day-to-day responsibilities of that. Liquor licenses, ordering, the contracts for the dancers, and dealing with Stannis Baratheon’s puritanical wife and her quest to eliminate the entire sex industry. _Gods that woman needs to get fucking laid_ , Dany thought to herself, staring down at the empty club.

Their last patron had gone home, the bartenders divvied up the tips and left, and the waitresses and dancers on their way out, waving goodbye to each other and up to the mirrors along the top of the club, where they knew she watched. She smirked, sipping her whiskey, and watched out of the corner of her eye as the last person left, their shadow fading into blackness. She sighed and gazed at the empty stage. The lights were out, just a few dim ones on in the back, giving the club an eerie, ghostly appearance. She checked her watch. It was almost two in the morning. She had a few things to do, mostly related to scheduling—curse Robb Stark to the seven hells honestly—before she called Rakharo to pick her up and take her home.

Dany turned away from the glass and moved to pull her chair out, to start looking at the escort schedules, when she blinked hard, a spotlight shining from the stage into her office. _What the fuck?_ She turned and gazed out, seeing the light land on the stage. She frowned and went to her desk, opening up her drawer to remove her gun, kept only for emergencies. She was supposed to be the only one left in the club.

“Oh Daenerys.”

The voice was sing-song, burred and teasing. She froze, halfway to the door. On her heel, she rotated, staring to the glass. Her eyes narrowed. She paused, waiting. The voice called out again. “I was thinking, you’ve been working so late. Working so hard. You might need something to, ah…cheer you up. So why don’t you come down here, hm?”

She hid her smile. “You son of a bitch,” she murmured, walking over to the window and gazing out again.

He was down there, on the stage, sitting in a chair, leg propped up over his knee, and wearing black slacks and a black blazer, but she could tell there was nothing underneath. Just a tie loose around his neck and his feet were bare. His dark curls tousled. He had a microphone in his hand. He lifted it to his lips, speaking again, voice magnified once more in the silent club. “Don’t make me ask again.”

 _You are not in charge._. Dany took her sweet time, sauntering down the stairs and into the club, over to where a chair was waiting for her in front of the stage. She crossed her arms over her chest. “What is this? Ladies’ night?”

“Something like that. Get up here.”

“You’re not the boss of me.”

He cocked his head. “No, I’m not. But humor me.”

Dany squinted. He never gave up his control this easy. She humored him, like he asked, and went up onto the stage. Her fingers played along the warm skin of his chest, sliding underneath the lapels of the designer suit jacket. She drifted them down over his rippling abs, to his belt buckle, and began to slide it free, when he stilled her. She frowned. “I thought this was a game?”

“Hmm, it is. Trust me, hm?”

She smiled into his temple, her tongue darting to trace the shell of his ear. “I trust you.” She trusted no one, only him. She slid around and moved to his lap, but he was too fast for her and was off the chair the instant she slammed her arse into it, surprised. She turned, her heated gaze following him.

He popped the button on the jacket and grinned. “Lose yours.”

Dany did as he bid, losing her suit jacket. She ignored his command to sit down, when she stood, but she didn’t care, and dropped her pants, leaving her in her stilettos and her black thong. She’d taken her bra off earlier; that thing was so constricting; it was truly the end of her day when it came off. She reached a hand to palm her tit, her other going down to the scrap of lace between her legs. “Now what?” she asked.

“Sit back down. I told you, I have a little surprise for you.” He was still holding his jacket closed.

She wanted to know what he had planned, so she sat down, crossing her legs primly. He walked back around in front of her and then let go, flinging the jacket apart and off his body, tossing it aside. She burst into laughter, peals of it. It shook her from the top of her head down to her toes, and she almost slid off the chair. It felt so _good_ , her entire body relaxing at the sight in front of her.

Jon grinned, hands on his hips. He could be so serious, but then sometimes he was such a bloody _idiot._. “You like?” he asked.

“Oh my gods!”

Over his nipples he’d placed two pasties, black sparkling ones with a dragon popping out at her. He also had glitter on. He unbuckled his belt and then the pants were gone, his briefs black and glittering as well, with red dragons printed over them, sparkling. He laughed, unable to contain himself. He gestured down to his cock, already hard and ready. “See anything you like?”

“You’re a bloody wanker.”

He laughed, taking the tie off his neck. He pulled it taut between his hands and wiggled his brows. “You know I don’t give up control.”

“No, but you certainly have tonight.” She watched him, one eye on his feral wolfish gaze and the other on the tie in his hands. This was part of the game. He played with the tie, tugging it and sliding it between his fingers, almost dancing with it. She licked her dry lips. “One of the girls teach you that?”

“Hmm, Robb did.”

“Oh he did?”

“He learned it from Jeyne.”

“Naturally.” Her voice tightened, a high-pitched whine when he draped the silk over her breasts, her nipples tightening. “Oh gods Jon.” She quivered, her hips thrusting up as he dangled the tie over her belly, her muscles quivering, and her thighs gripping around the edge of the chair to keep from sliding off the edge. She reached for him, but the tie came out, slapping her hands from him. Her mouth dropped open, surprised. But she trusted him.

He stood in front of her and with one hand holding the tie, his other came to the edge of the briefs. His gray eyes were black with want. Dany knew what he wanted, just like she did. She pulled at the briefs, sending them falling to the floor and he tugged her up, spinning her around so he could sit back in the chair and bring her over him. She moved the lace at her crotch aside, her body wet and ready for him.

And then the tie came out, quick like a whip, and he snagged her wrists, tying them together. “You arsehole,” she mumbled, her mouth over his. She wanted to kiss him, to fuck him.

His chest rumbled. “I told you I’m not giving up my control.”

“Well neither am I.” She moved fast, her wrists tied now, and dropped her bound arms over his head, pinning him against her. She was the one in control too, sliding against him, her heat engulfing him in one quick move. They finally kissed, messy and needy. She wanted to laugh, the silly pasties on his chest tickling hers as they moved together, but all she could do was moan with want, panting his name.

They collapsed in a heap on the cold stage floor, her wrists still bound, and the pasties still stuck to his chest. She blinked away sweat from her eyes and stared up at the ceiling, the lights glowing down on them, and wondered what exactly had just happened. She turned to face him, smiling at his dopey look. “You definitely distracted me,” she said.

“Glad to hear it.” He reached backwards and untied her wrists. She slid her freed hands over his chest, ripping at the pasties. He winced. “Fuck!”

“That’s what you get you arsehole.”

“Hmm, I love you.”

She grinned, kissing him. “I love you too.” Her hand dropped to the cheek of his perfect arse, striking it hard, the muscle tightening with the slap and his breath drawing in tight, instantly aroused. “Come on, let’s go home.” She got up and swept her clothes off the stage, walking towards her office to freshen up. “Oh and Jon?”

“Hmm?”

“Bring the tie.”

* * *


	2. melting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dany and Jon mourn a loss together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **TRIGGER WARNING FOR THIS DRABBLE!!! TW: MISCARRIAGE.**
> 
> This is an out of character for me angst drabble. AenarSnow requested angst with prompt **I’m yours, but you’re not mine** and somehow this is what came of it.
> 
> It’s the last angst I think for this series.

Thank gods for Robb, he thought, as his cousin quietly lifted little Aryanna and carried her away, whispering and telling the little girl to leave them alone, that they would see her later. “Why is Dany sad?” she asked, not understanding how come they’d left so late last night, weren’t there in the morning, and were just arriving again, sad and downcast, matching the driving rains that kept the rambunctious child from exerting her energy outside. 

“Because Dany had to go to the doctor. It’s okay, come on now.” Robb gave him a sympathetic look, and squeezed his shoulder, quiet. “I’ll be here as long as you need me.”

He nodded, still a little numb, and patted his cousin’s—more of a brother than anything—hand. He mumbled thanks, closing the door quietly behind him. He knew she didn’t want a thing to do with him; she’d been distant and shunning his touch, flinching each time he got close to her. It would hurt less if she just hauled off and slapped him. 

The shower turned off and she emerged some time later, face pink and eyes swollen. She crawled into the bed, wearing one of his t-shirts, her hair in a simple braid over her shoulder, and her knees drawing to her chest as she curled into the covers. He slowly approached her, sinking onto the side of the bed. His finger reached out, to touch the bump of her neck, but drew back. “I have some ice packs for you,” he mumbled, fumbling with the cold objects while also fumbling with her medciation. He swallowed hard. “Doctor said they might help.”

She said nothing. Kept her eyes straight ahead staring at the wall. He sighed, leaving them on the nightstand for her. “I’ll be in the other room,” he whispered. He wanted so badly to curl next to her, to hold her close, and remind her that they _both_ had a loss, she wasn’t the only one, but he would hold off on that for now. The doctor warned him that every woman processed differently. And Daenerys Targaryen was never one to let her feelings show until she was burning something or someone down. 

He didn’t fancy being on the receiving end of the fire. 

He went into the adjacent sitting room, sitting on the end of the couch, and drew the laptop to his knees. Eyes itchy from exhaustion, tears, and adrenaline, he focused on work. He had plenty to occupy his time, first thing sending out a mass email to all the boys that Dany would be out for the foresesable feature and he’d be doing all their schedules. Then to all the clients, who had been filling up herphone with messages and requests, telling them he would handle everything. 

A few days passed; he tried to be there for Aryanna, who needed him and didn’t understand his pain. Or why her mother wasn’t playing with her or would cry and turn away when she tried to visit her with a card she made. “Thank you baby,” Dany whispered, kissing her head, and then she’d turn back to her pillow and try to sleep again. 

Flowers arrived, a gigantic rose arrangement from Olenna and Margaery Tyrell. Loras and Renly stopped by with food, Qhono and Irri appeared to take Aryanna out to Qhono’s horse ranch to ride for a bit. There was no amount of support from the dancers too. Missandei was a force, taking over everything when even he faltered; he sometimes forgot how much Dany actually _did._

After a week he finally went into their room and sat next to her. She was awake, staring at the ceiling. A hand on her belly. “Talk to me,” he begged.

“Why?”

“Because you have to talk to me eventually. I lost a baby too.”

She snorted, rolling her purple eyes to him. They filled with so much pain; he wanted to siphon it all away, to go out there and slay the beast that dared to hurt her so terribly. Except he couldn’t, because the beast just happened to be a purely natural phenomenon. It just was rare, the doctor said, for spontaneous miscarriages after the first trimester. “You have a baby already,” she said. She scowled. “You have Aryanna.”

He closed his eyes. He remembered when he first found out about her. Ygritte confessing she was late; they’d been fooling around for so long, after intense missions and when they wanted to blow off steam. It hadn’t been real for him, until she came out of the bathroom with that positive pregnancy test. And she’d given birth, saying now they could be together for good, they had a baby together. He’d been reticent, unsure of his feelings, if he truly did love her or if she was just a fun distraction. It had been so angry, both of them screaming at each other when she finally said she was done waiting for him. _”We have a fucking baby together and you don’t want me? Fuck you Jon Snow! I thought you were the love of my life!_ ”

Yes, he’d thought at the time. The great love of someone’s life. _I’m yours, but you’re not mine._ He knew that then, he didn’t know how, but he did. Ygritte had stormed out and that was the last he saw of her. She’d been killed the following day in an ambush.

And then Dany showed up in his life. The cool, fiery dragon. “I have Ayranna, but I didn’t love her mother,” he said. He frowned. “I love you Daenerys. I don’t know why you think I don’t.”

She hiccupped, tears leaking out of the corners of her eyes. “You already have a baby.”

“And she’s yours too,” he said, head dropping to hers. They sought each other’s hands, fingers sliding together. He closed his eyes tight, fighting his own tears. “Dany she’s your daughter too, and she needs you. Just like I do. And you need us. This doesn’t change it. Doesn’t stop it.”

“But what about her mother?”

“I didn’t love her like she loved me. Aryanna had nothing to do with that. I will always love Ygritte because she gave me Arry, but I love you. You’re mine.” He folded his fingers over her heart, fierce. “And I’m yours. Always.”

And the waterfall released, her tiny body wracking in sobs. He held her tight, comforting her, until she fell asleep in his arms. He rained kisses on her face, wiped away her tears, and cleaned up her sticky cheeks while she dozed fitfully. He got out of the bed and went downstairs to find Robb watching a Disney movie with Arry, who jumped up immediately, running to cling to him. 

“Is Dany okay Daddy?” she whispered.

“She will be. Come on, I think she wants to see you.” He lifted his daughter, bringing her to the bedroom, where she crawled in and hugged Dany, kissing her nose and whispering how she loved her. Dany hugged her close and nodded, saying how much she loved her too. He crawled back in the bed, holding his girls close, and eventually fell asleep, Dany’s hand closed tight around his.

They’d be okay, he thought, drifting off. They had each other


	3. conference calls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dany is a little... _busy_ during her conference call and Robb notices.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This prompt is for @youwerenevermine and she requested some spice for **Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?** and of course a Robb appearance.

This Zoom call was probably going to kill her. It had been going on for close to an hour, Tyrion droning on and on about some sort of archaic bit of legislation, while Varys nodded along like he knew a damn thing about it, and each one of her dragons in their little square boxes in varying states of boredom, amusement, and in the case of Jaime Lannister—fast asleep. 

She wasn’t sure why she called this all employee meeting; she did them so rarely, only when there would be a massive decision in the company that would affect them all or when she didn’t feel like sending an email to them all. This happened to be related to a request from Tyrion, which she regretted very much allowing. She was grateful only her top-half was visible, plus she was on mute. The little whimpers escaping her were hopefully not visible on her face, which she could see in the bottom corner of the screen, normally pale cheeks flushed, her pupils dilated black, a faint ring of violet around them. Her throat constricted and she gripped the edge of her black leather chair tighter, knuckles white and nails digging into the plush fabric. 

“Jon,” she managed to get out, stopping herself from truly forming his name, as her lips would be a dead giveaway. Her black suit jacket was crisp, angles sharp, and she wore a ruby and onyx lariat around her neck, nestled between the soft curves of her breasts, which heaved with each breath she drew in between pursed lips. 

Underneath her desk, not visible to anyone in the call, her COO was doing a very good job of ensuring the CEO was…. _pleased._ Jon’s decadent tongue flicked out and up her wet folds, her lace thong around her ankle and her heels digging into his arse, thighs squeezing around his head. He hummed happily against her, the tremors from his lips coursing through her, right to the molten pit inside of her belly. She blinked hard, staring at the screen, her fingers shaking, reaching to the computer keyboard when message popped up in the left chat box.

 _Boss you alright? You don’t look so good._ He’d added a few emoticons of tongues out.

Annoyed, she mumbled, “Robb.” She made a note to fire him, again.

Jon pulled away from her cunt with an obscene squelch, his gray eyes now black. He scowled. “I don’t think I like hearing my cousin’s name when I’m busy like this,” he growled.

“Daenerys, you there? I think we should also discuss the latest series of requests lately from clients for favors that we,” Tyrion cleared his throat delicately. “have told them we do not provide as part of their payments.”

She nodded, hitting the unmute. At that moment, Jon took the opportunity to shove his tongue straight into her cunt, sending her rocketing forward on the desk, grabbing the edges. Her eyes sprang open, a little squeal escaping her lips. “Oh!”

“You alright Boss?” This time from Satin, one of Jon’s latest acquisitons, who was almost too cheeky for his own good.

“Fine,” she managed to get out, while Jon carried on underneath the desk, chuckling. His fingers joined in with his sinful tongue. Her hand slipped to his curls, tangling and pulling, shoving his mouth harder into her cunt, until she was riding him, speaking tightly. She explained again the nature of their contracts, how they were welcome of course to indulge any client’s fantasies and wishes, so long as they desired them too. “And not company time!”

Robb chimed in. “So let’s say, if we were to be in a…” His blue eyes twinkled. “Work meeting, for example, it would be inappropriate to be indulging in…” He wiggled his brows. “Eating out a client’s pussy?”

Jon laughed into her cunt, going harder now, and she pushed harder on him, so close. “Yes,” she managed to get out, knowing full well she would have to eat her words later. She swallowed hard, trying to reprimand him. “And Mr. Stark, do you kiss your mother with that mouth?”

“Not until I’ve brushed my teeth and prayed to the Seven for forgiveness for my sins.”

As she had met his mother, a devoutly religious woman who would have disowned her beloved son for his chosen career path if his two brothers weren’t in even worse careers—one had joined a cult and spent his entire days smoking something called Greenseer and his youngest had run off to join a rock band called Zig Zag.

The tingles in the base of her spine, the warmth beginning to flood out from her cunt were too much. “Meeting adjourned!” she exclaimed, disconnecting instantly. She lifted her kenes up, spreading herself further, heels on the edge of her desk and she flung her head backwards around the headrest, hands in Jon’s silky curls. It hit her fast, his tongue nonstop, and his fingers pressing tight into her thighs, holding her in place as she bucked furiously into him. She sobbed, lurching forwards, gushing into his mouth. “Oh gods!”

Jon licked her out through the rest of her climax, until she was a shaking mess in the chair, legs falling limply down to the floor. He smiled, standing up swiftly and wiped his palm over his beard, which was damp from her release. He glanced to his shirtcuffs, tugging them primly. “Well Ms. Targaryen, I believe my lunch break is over.”

“Hmmm.” She didn’t know what time it was, what day, or even really what was going on. Everything was so warm and fuzzy around her. She smiled, loopy, up at him. Her fingers danced out to grab at his belt buckle. “Yes, yours is over, but mine is about to begin.”

He chuckled, leaning back against the desk while she unbuckled him, fingers reaching into the waistband. He was about to say something when the phone at the edge of his hand buzzed across the desk. Reaching for it, he sighed. “It’s Robb.”

“Tell him to fuck off or he’s fired.”

He answered the phone, while she released him from his briefs, his hips lifting to allow her to nudge down his clothes. “Robb,” he greeted. Her eyes lifted to his and she grinned slyly, slowly lowering her mouth over him. He drew in a sharp breath, hand going to her hair, pushing down as she swallowed him. “Oh fuck!” He panted a couple times, watching her, and shook his head. “Fuck off Robb, you’re fired.” He threw the phone aside and sighed. “Gods Dany, I love you.”

She’d have mumbled how she loved him too, but he pushed her head a little harder down over him, so she grinned and showed him in other ways.


	4. prove it

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dany isn't sure why her moods are all over the place, but Jon takes the brunt of it. He's not complaining.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is in answer to an ask from **AenarSnow** awhile ago on Tumblr for the prompt "Prove it!" and he wanted Jon's tongue and some spiciness. I, of course, obliged, but also threw in some fluff and fucking hells, a little bit of plot too (why???)
> 
> This takes place AFTER the drabble "Melting" in terms of timeline.

_Jon Snow was going to kill her._

She was furious with him. Furious that he dared leave their house this morning looking the way he looked, all beautiful in his crisp tailored gray suit, his boots shiny and his curls luscious. Furious he smelled like the mix of spearmint gum, faint scent of his e-cigarette, and the pine fresh of his shampoo. Furious he hadn’t tugged those curls back into the knot he usually kept them in at work and they hung free around his fine face, his beard dark and rather messy as he hadn’t been to the barber for a cleanup in a week or so. 

There was also the drawl in his voice, the burr of his accent, when he spoke with Missy, Tyrion, Varys, and the other members of the company. She left the room at one point, too annoyed to carry on. There was the other time when he’d had to call a couple clients, dress them down for trying to pressure the boys into sexual conduct when they were not within any rights to do so if they didn’t want to. He was so firm with them, but polite, and of course they apologized. They just _really_ loved her boys, after all.

She sulked, waiting for him to finish, for everyone to leave, and the door to close behind Missy, who smirked at her knowingly. She cocked her head at her best friend, appalled she would think such things. _Who am I kidding, she knows us too well._

Jon glanced over at her across the conference room table. She didn’t like coming to the main offices here at the tower in downtown Kings Landing, she preferred the darkness of her lair in the Dragonpit. “I think that went well,” he said, closing his laptop. “And we’ve secured the generous donation from Olenna too.” He scowled. “I’ll have to thank Robb for that one. No doubt he convinced Margaery to convince her.”

“Hmm.”

“Before I forget, we have Arry’s school play tonight.” He beamed, proud father that he was. “She’s so excited, she gets to play Aegon the Conqueror.”

“Hmm.”

He glanced sideways, brow furrowing. “What’s your problem? You’ve been bratty all afternoon.”

“Do you ever get sick of the sound of your own voice?” she snapped. She couldn’t explain why she was just so _testy._ Her mood had been shifting so rapidly lately. Nothing made her happy. Everything pissed her off. She’d fucking _cried_ when Jorah had to stop the car this morning because a fucking _deer_ jumped across the road.

He drew back, lip curling, wolf-like. “Do you?”

“No.”

He pushed his laptop and folders aside, drawing himself up, walking around the edge of the table, advancing on her. “You’ve been pissy. You want me to make you feel better?” 

“You can’t,” she huffed; she wasn’t sure why. She crossed her legs, her heel dangling off her foot. She scowled up at him. He was part of the problem; he couldn’t make her feel better. Looking the way he looked. Talking the way he talked. She slouched further in her seat. 

“I bet I can.”

She eyed him. “Oh?”

“Hmm,” it was his turn to murmur. He reached up for his tie, loosening it. He slipped his jacket off, neatly hanging it on an opposite chair and yanked off the tie. He set it down over the jacket. In his crisp black shirt and suspenders, he looked good enough to eat. He smiled again, wolfish, and knelt in front of her. He pushed her knees apart. “I think I can.”

“Prove it,” she sneered. 

His fingers danced along her legs, reaching under her skirt. He snapped her garters, the clasps stinging her bare skin. She shivered but gave him no satisfaction. He leaned down, kissing the inside of her calf, slowly stroking along the underside of her legs. “You were like this last night too,” he murmured, his gray eyes fixed on hers, unblinking. “Care to share?”

“No,” she pouted. It was so _stupid_ and she hated herself for feeling like such a foolish girl. She sniffed at him. “Are you going to get to it?”

“My, my, my, the dragon really is upset.”

“Put your tongue to good use then and _stop talking_.”

So he did. It was never the same, she would give him that much, sliding in the chair as he teased her. That tongue of his should come with a warning label, perhaps even a patent on it. She needed to trademark it. She wasn’t sure how he did it, his fingers tight on the insides of her thighs, holding her apart, one of her legs hiked up and resting on the table, the other over the arm of the chair, one heel off and the other scraping atop the glass tabletop. She grabbed hold of her knee, for something to hold, to dig her fingers into, while her other hand clutched his curls. She babbled in Valyrian, almost begging him, but staved off—he knew what those words meant, and she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. 

“Jon,” she exclaimed, when he edged off of her, she cried, tears trickling down the corners of her eyes, furious with herself. He toyed with her, over and over, almost to the brink before he rocked back on his heels, licked his lips like the wolf finishing his dinner, and then dove back in again. When his fingers joined, she couldn’t handle it, fucking his hand and riding at his face, almost slipping clear off the chair to the floor. 

He moaned against her cunt, working her over, jaw moving as he suckled her clit and fucked her with his tongue, drinking up all her desire for him, and crooking his fingers along her silken walls, searching along the nerves for the ones that would send her flying. He certainly did, her climax hard, brutal, and smothering out any sound she could make, her eyes clenched shut as she came. 

Then the tears came, but she didn’t know why. She slipped right off the chair into his arms, sobbing against him. “I hate you,” she mumbled into his shirt, wiping her eyes with the lapels. “And I don’t know why, because I love you too.”

He gathered her in his arms, kissing her hair. “I love you too, you’re just tired, come on. You’re working too hard.”

She sniffed, attributing the strange mix of her emotions to that. He helped her up, back into her shoes, her stockings shoved into the pocket of his suit jacket. She leaned against him, her knees a little wobbly still. “You proved it,” she mumbled, trying not to smile. 

He smirked. “Thought I did.”

They left the conference room, Tyrion giving her a disgusted look, while Missandei just shook her head. Her best friend walked with them, passing her a small shopping bag. “I took the liberty of stopping at the drugstore and picking you up something…might make you feel better.”

“Thanks Missy.” Dany didn’t think much of it, until they got home. She wondered what it was. Just some aspirin? She opened the bag, staring into it, eyes wide. _Oh fuck._

Several minutes later, she stared at the object in her hand. She smiled to herself, tears trickling down her face. She hadn’t allowed herself to think it again. Just in case…well…in case _it_ happened again. Why did they call this? _A rainbow baby_ , she thought with a watery smile, her hand pressing to her belly. She took a deep breath and towed the test away, going to lay down. She had to think about some things. And they had a play to attend.

That night, after tucking Arry in, she went back to her room, Jon taking off his watch and sitting on the edge of the bed. “She go down easy? She was exhausted.”

“Hmm.” She crawled across their big bed to him, kissing his shoulder, whispering. “I love you.”

He smirked. “Yeah? What’d you say to me earlier? Prove it.”

“Oh I think I can.” She reached for the nightstand and took out the box, leaning over and dropping it into his hands. 

It took him a moment to realize what it was. He whipped his head up, eyes wide, smile beaming. “Really?”

“Really,” she giggled, pulling him down onto her. “Now prove to your baby mama that you love me, Jon Snow.”

He laughed, kissing her hard. “Oh I certainly will.”


End file.
